Room to Breathe
by triangularis
Summary: You are not a monster. All you are is human. WARNING for bullying, selfharm, manipulation.
1. Chapter 1

Nothing she had ever done had affected her like this had.

Reaching home, the events of the day still swirling through her mind like a maelstrom, she slowly entered the house she shared with her mother. She was scared of herself right now. She didn't know why she was feeling what she was feeling. Maybe she was finally growing a conscience.

Somewhere along the line the plan had gone wrong, and the consequences were bothering the shit out of her. Nazz felt genuinely disturbed. A group is only as strong as it's weakest link, and right now she felt like she fit that quota. Which wasn't great for her, not if she wanted to keep on the other member's good sides. Entering the hallway, she realized that trying to immerse herself in distractions was not going to work, not this time, she could tell. Not that that was going to stop her from trying. Pushing open the door to the bathroom, ignoring the slight creak of the hinges, she set to work. With her schoolbag safely deposited by the front door she could begin her routine without worry of distraction from her mother when she got home. First, the tub was filled with steaming hot water infused with just the right amount of vanilla bubble bath, next, she got her razor. Glaring down the instrument, she knew she'd already made the choice for herself. Bubble bath would sting on cuts. Not today.

Sliding easily into the water she let a sigh of frustration escape her as her body was submerged into the therapeutic concoction. Why, oh why praytell, was she still involving herself in things like this? Nearing seventeen years of age, she should be able to distinguish between positive and negative influences, and yet here she was! Contemplating whether or not to skip the bath and go straight into the selfharm to get her mind off things? Feeling intense regret over her involvement with particular people at her highschool and their absolutely barbaric actions? What was she even getting out of this?

Oh yeah, that's right.

They had blackmail against her. How could she _possibly_ forget.

Wrinkling her nose at the vile taste her thought's bitter sarcasm brought with it, she slunk even further beneath the water level in her innocent white bathtub. It was so easy to stain things that were white. White skin, bruised and battered, the colours of pain evidently displayed as a sickening rainbow while the body attempted to heal itself. White clothing, the entire load of laundry purposefully sabotaged with a single red-dyed garment so that the whole damn thing turned pink in colour, a gesture of mocking towards a scared boy's sexual orientation. Let's not forget the white papers marked with sharpie, attempts at the required 'academic excellence' for classes crushed into the ground with two strokes on the top of the page spelling out a failing grade.

White was a **pretty** colour, sure. But it was weak and subjective and easily changed by outside forces, and she hated it for that. She hated it because it reminded it of herself. It reminded her of everyone who's life she had had a helping hand in making more difficult. Not that she was going to name names, but she knew for a fact that she was at least indirectly responsible for the grief of a **lot** of people, and that was enough to drive her to hate herself.

She shouldn't have trusted Rolf. As soon as he got wind of her secret, of course he **had** to inform Kevin. Nazz had her own suspicions about their relationship, but in her current position she wasn't really able to judge, let alone voice her observations. She'd come to learn that once Kevin heard something he could use to his own advantage, there was no way it was going to go by unacknowledged, no fucking way. And if he heard of something being spread around that impacted him negatively? You'd have to sleep with one eye open. He hadn't been the same after his father's company went bankrupt. Behind the doors of his house? Her shudder was legitimate as she even ventured to imagine what went on behind those walls that had twisted him into something so full of ire and vengeance.

Yet this was the situation she had gotten herself into. Similar to how Eddy sometimes threatened Double D with revealing to the other kids what was under his hat, she mused with a grimace on her pretty face, Kevin now had control over her. He knew her secret. He had her in his vice grip, and there was no way she would get out of this unscathed. Either she followed and aided him in his reign of terror, or he let the entirety of the cul-de-sac know what she'd tried to keep hidden, even from herself, practically since she was a child.

If she was stronger she would be able to break free. This was a catch-22 and she despised herself for not taking the high road and coming clean by her goddamn self. It was the lesser of two evils – she was tired of others suffering for her personal cowardice.

Crying silent tears while massaging pomegranate conditioner into your hair isn't something that most people make a habit of, but for Nazz it had become part of her near-daily 'routine'. Aromatherapy was supposedly a thing, and she was milking it for all it was worth. Like a horrible crescendo her self-loathing had snowballed into something uncontrollable, but hell if she wasn't going to try to rein it in.

Thing was, there was no gay-straight alliance club at her school. Peach Creek wasn't exactly the most liberal-thinking of places when it came to the rights of the LGBT+. Peach Creek wasn't the most liberal-thinking of places period. The adults scoffed at the humanitarian rights movements sprouting across the country and their children learned from their caretakers. And, as we all know, children have the potential to be a violent, cruel bunch. To say her true colours would not be accepted with open arms would be the understatement of the century.

At least once they'd all gotten to higher grade levels the rivalries between the various cliques had died down. The two most prominent rival groups from their childhoods, the Eds and the Kankers, had lowered their boundaries and as such been somewhat assimilated with the other children of Rathink Avenue. Everything was more complex now than the few groups they had strewn together in their days of youth – it was like a war between countries had been disbanded and now everyone was left to choose their own affiliations, make their own alliances, their own enemies. It was all a convoluted miasma of con-artists and backstabbing and innocent people being left to rot and die. Ah, highschool.

Nazz twirled her finger languidly through the bubbled surface of the bathwater, then sighed from deep in her lungs and leaned backwards into the heat of the sweet-smelling liquid, submerging herself up to her neck, bent knees poking out of the foam like two identical beach islands with sand the colour of peach tea. A large gulp of air refilling what had escaped with her sigh and her eyes squeezed closed as tight as she could, Nazz slipped her head beneath the sea of vanilla. Though long evaporated into the sauna-like air of the bathroom, she felt comforted in feeling like, should those rivulets of tears still been present on her face, they would have been washed away, conjoined into the miniature waves surrounding her. Aromatherapy was nice, but being safe and enclosed in the warm blanket of a nice bath was a huge comfort to her as well. The strange echoes of sound vibrating through the water were so different than the harsh sounds of dry land. In real life she was a prisoner. But when she was underwater? She felt like a fucking mermaid. A mermaid who everyone loved. A nice, pretty, kind, helpful mermaid princess who did everything she could for her subjects to make them happy. Not someone who worked to ruin others lives for her own selfish reasons. God she hated herself.

And just like that, she was back on dry land. Peeking her face out of the water she ran her hands through her dirty-blonde hair, trying to work the conditioner out so she could towel off and leave. Her Gilette was looming in the corner of her mind and she was not doing that tonight, no sir.

What she _was_ doing, though, was practicing her violin. As a villain she supposed she was entitled to have an outlet, and classical music for her was very much that. Music was like math – it was logical and the more you practiced it the better you got at it. But unlike math, it was easier to express emotion through the medium. When she was sad and felt like she was empty and awful and hopeless, she played her violin and let her sorrows escape through the notes. But when she was angry or felt like she was going to commit arson, she would work out for a little bit, do some exercises, go for a jog. That brought a slight grin to her lips, though somewhat strained. Being a human felt so weird sometimes, emotions were baffling to her. At least now she could handle them better than when she was younger? She'd have to take that small comfort to soothe her mind and keep her on track. She wasn't at school right now. She was away from the people who had control over her. Now that she was alone, she was free. And she intended to make the most of the time she had before her return to the battleground tomorrow morning. No one was going to bother her, her mom wouldn't be home for at least another hour or so. That was plenty of time to have the house to herself. She was without charge, she was alone, and she was safe.

_For the moment.  
_Her brain wouldn't let her forget, and it nagged at the back of her mind.

Having slipped into more casual and comfortable clothing while she pondered, she was ready to unload her anxieties. Unlatching her violin's case and setting it in the proper position came almost as second nature to her now – she'd been doing this a lot lately.

With her window open and a breeze making its way into her room, she closed her eyes. Adjusting her hold on the bow, her memory kicked in and she began to play, sound of strings as soft and as soothing as the brush of wind against her face.

Breathe in. Release.

Freedom.


	2. Chapter 2

_BREATHE IN_ (release)_ BREATHE IN_ (release) _BREATHE IN_ (release)

The breaths she took into her lungs were sharp and quick, stinging her throat in their rapidity, and the releases of air seemed to be even quicker, the temporary relief they brought her not even near to close enough to help ease her panicked state.

So far so good, though; not so much as a single lonely soul had caught sight of her since she'd initially made her mad dash for freedom. Surprising, considering how sloppily she was running, feet slapping loudly on the concrete of the sidewalk beneath her, and how loud her heart was beating. The systoles and hurried diastoles sounded more to her like the angry pounding of a drum and surely someone else had heard it by now – it was damn well making her deaf.

Being on the road and thus directly visible was risky but it was the fastest route to take her to where she needed to be. And she needed to get there as soon as possible.

Face scrunched up in focus, a few tears flew from her wind-whipped eyes. She felt them through the slight cooling sensation they left on her skin as they were evaporated by the rushing breeze. At the same time her head sank slowly deeper and deeper into the awful heat that encompassed it – May was not used to running for nearly this long, and thought to herself with more than a hint of despair that this necessary act of physical strain would be the cause of a killer headache after she stopped racing for her life.

The other source of the heat coursing through her body was the rage directed towards those fuckers at school. Even just thinking about it again set her off, fueling her drive to sprint even faster to get to her destination before time ran out. She hadn't fucking done anything – there wasn't any reason for them to target her like this **and yet** here she was. Hell.

The playground was in sights! Once she was there she would get her shirt back and stop Jimmy. This is what they wanted. For the fatty to run all the way across the schoolgrounds to beat the clock and hopefully make a fool out of herself if anyone saw her in her current state.

However, that was a chance she was willing to take.

Better to be seen running like a maniac in your bra, fat jiggling, than have those god-damned pictures start circulation.

She knew her ex was cold, but this was the work of a demon. May had trusted her with something personal and this is what she got in return. What an absolutely unbelievable bitch. At least they weren't dating anymore – she could have that small comfort as she tripped over herself and landed facefirst into the sand.

A confirming snicker told her that she had found who she was after. Forcing her body to get off the ground and face him, she resiliently wiped the grit-mingled tears from her person with the back of her wrist. They could put her through whatever trials they wanted, but she refused to show weakness of spirit in front of the monsters. That being said, it wouldn't surprise her if they could _smell_ fear.

Jimmy was slouched precariously against the bars of the swingset, though he pushed off after she got up to meet his gaze. His madeup eyes were alert and watchful under his drooping, sleepy eyelids. Various piercings across his face gleamed in the sunlight, hurting May's own eyes even further and causing her to squint, emulating a glare. Clutched tightly in her enemy's perfectly manicured hands was his cellphone, on which were the last copies of the pictures, sitting quietly and awaiting their fates. Were they to be sent to everyone on the phone's contact list? Or were they to be deleted and erased from existence? May remembered again for the five hundredth time that she had no way of assuring herself that the initially laid out conditions of this torture session would actually be upheld, not that she had much of a choice as to whether or not she would partake when the idea was proposed to her. Her being here now would technically ensure the safety of her privacy, but Jimmy in particular wasn't exactly well-known for his sense of integrity. In other words, he was an outrageously obnoxious, cheating snake-in-the-grass, and it was likely that another catch to this whole deal was about to be created for her.

Having been circling around his victim like a shark while she thought, now he seemed to read her mind.

"I didn't think you'd make it here; you almost ran out of time!" Here he made a quick "tsk tsk" sound on the back of his upper teeth, which must have been no easy feat since he was still sporting the signature silver contraption of his youth. He would be beautiful if it weren't for all of the metal on his face. He scared her. Seeming to pick up on this, he let the silence stew her discomfort for a few seconds before continuing on with his monologue, tone all business. "The pictures won't leave the phone if you can give me a handstand."

She stared at him a bit longer, mildly appalled and a whole lot horrified.

Finally he prompted again. "Come on, darling. You can give me just one, can't you?" His voice was dripping with self-satisfaction and his face was smug. She wanted to punch it.

"Give me my shirt."

Now it was his turn to be mildly appalled. Apparently he didn't think she had the audacity to make a demand of him with such force.

It took him 5 seconds to consider and 3 seconds to follow through. Reaching into his bag, he withdrew the article and lobbed it to her, silent through all his actions. The top was back on in moments, and he was was waiting once again, arms crossed and hip cocked. May had made it this far, and she had no intention of backing out now. Bracing her hands on the ground was the easy part, the difficult part was summoning up the courage to pull the potentially dangerous stunt.

Breathe in. Release.

**_Liftoff._**

Gravity turned and so did her stomach. It felt like the entire weight of the planet had shifted and now she was holding it up. A whole half of a second later her arms shook and buckled, dropping her on her face for the second time today. This time, though, she had moved to solid ground necessary to execute the handstand, and the soft landing provided by the sand come first time around was long gone. The grass rushed up to meet her forehead.

While she lay on the ground struggling not to focus on the pain, her ears picked up the "beepbeep" of Jimmy fulfilling his part of the deal. The pictures were gone for good now. The next sounds she heard were a sigh of reluctance, "That was pretty pathetic, but I suppose I'll let it slide", the shuffle of the snake weaving his way to the next place he was supposed to be, and after a few minutes of silence and agony, the ring of the school's bell letting the stampede of teenagers out for the day. She was back on her feet in an instant. The trailer park was the only safe place for her right now. She needed to book it before someone started asking questions.

As far as she (and she was sure everyone else involved) was concerned, this exchange had never happened.

May tried to tell that to her ringing ears and pounding head as she made her escape.

Maybe it was the worry about security cameras having caught her on her shirtless escapade from the day, or maybe it was how her sisters must have suspected something was up when she vomited in the bathroom and told them she had decided to run home from school "for exercise" when they inevitably checked on her, but despite how many times she had fallen throughout the course of the day, May Kanker could not fall asleep.

That was how she found herself on top of their RV, looking daggers at the lights emanating from the windows of the cul-de-sac. In her current state of mind she likened the squares of illumination to a virus, brazenly infecting the purity that was the black blanket of the muggy night around them. She didn't even feel pissed off anymore. Now she just felt sort of bitter and mostly empty. What she wanted to do was become invisible – just for a little while. Imagination churning, she raised her head from where it had been resting on her knees, peeking over the side of their home to see if the lights were still on. It had only been around the better half of one hour since she'd sought solace up here, but apparently Lee and Marie had already given up on waiting for her to come down. They'd already gone to bed. A tiny, impish smile set itself on her lips completely of its own accord. Locating the ladder on the side of the RV, then the door so she could get inside, then retrieving the darkest-coloured jacket she owned – all with no light to aid her in her searches – was just as difficult to manage quietly and undetected as it sounded, but nevertheless the girl managed it all fairly quickly and was soon on her way.

On her way to **where**, though? As she was dressed currently – navy blue jacket, charcoal grey tights, and a pitch black pair of shorts – she would be able to blend in with the darkness; she would have the ability to go anywhere virtually undetected. The only problem was her hair. Bright, blonde, and noticeable, so she decided it would be best to be careful regardless. Her hair was like the lights she'd been scowling at earlier from atop the RV, she realized with a hint of discomfort at the thought. It was beaming and glaring, besmirching the black of the inky starless night, spreading light in places light had no business in being. The idea, however silly it was, stung more than she would like to admit and she wasn't even completely sure why. Chalking it up to the hit to the head she'd gotten from the afternoon and moving on, it took a few minutes of pointless wandering before something in her mind finally clicked. Destination clearly envisioned now, it was only a matter of time before her beeline ran its course. Her feet brought her to a stop.

Facing her was the fence separating her from her ex's backyard. She had no intention of actually jumping over the fence, however. Even now she could pick up the soft whining of what she had come here for. May had guessed they would still be up and at it and she was right. Settling down on the grass (still warm from the glow of the day's recently-set sun), she made herself comfortable, closed her eyes, and listened.

Listening to how beautifully Nazz played her violin, one could almost mistake her for having a soul.


End file.
